


There's A New Wild Everywhere

by coffeejunkii



Series: In Heat [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Clint Barton, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Barebacking, Bonding, Car Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Phil Coulson, Relationship Negotiation, Skinny Dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course it would happen now, at the worst possible moment, when Clint isn't even with him and cannot know that Phil's on the brink of a heat.</p><p>(But life's generous sometimes, and what seems bad can turn into something unexpectedly wonderful.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's A New Wild Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [In the Quiet Space Between Us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1108669), but probably also works as a standalone.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta Rurounihime and to Pollyrepeat for suggesting Northern Quebec as a setting.
> 
> Title is from "New Wild Everywhere" by Great Lake Swimmers.
> 
> As always with A/B/O fic, proceed with caution regarding consent issues. I don't think that is a problem here, but let me know if I should adjust the tags.

Medical has a field day with the late onset of Phil's heat. They try to keep Clint from the exam room, but Phil's curt “he's my partner” puts an end to that attempt. Phil was tempted to say Alpha instead of partner, but that's Clint's information to share, not his. The doctors poke and prod him for a long time while Clint glowers from a corner. Phil can tell that Clint is struggling to keep his Alpha instincts in check, especially when Phil feels lightheaded after the nurse draws his blood. Once the medical team leaves, Clint is at his side in two strides. It feels good to hold Clint's hand; perhaps the exam left Phil more exhausted than he thought.

On the way back to Phil's office, Clint drags him into the nearest supply closet and nuzzles him for five minutes. Clint keeps mumbling apologies into Phil's neck, clearly embarrassed about this display of possessiveness. Phil assures him that he doesn't mind. It reminds him of the way Clint took care of him during the heat. 

** 

Clint starts the Beta pheromones again. It's confusing to Phil because he's familiar with that scent—he smells like Clint, but he doesn't smell like his Alpha.

**

It takes a week for Phil to receive his medical report. He gets a clean bill of health and the confirmation that his contraceptive implant should be good for another few months. He feels a tightness in his chest when the phrases “possibility of future conception”, “only minor age-related complications” and “potential to carry to term” come into view. He puts his head between his knees and reminds himself to breathe. He's glad that Clint isn't with him. He isn't ready to share everything he's learned just yet.

Phil makes sure that the access to his medical records is restricted further—Eyes Only for Fury. He can't have anyone exploit any potential weaknesses.

**

Clint never really leaves after the heat. There are a few nights they spend apart, but for all intents and purposes, they live together. When Clint's lease is up, he feels obligated to ask Phil if he should renew it, but they both already know that he won't. 

**

Phil begins to worry. Clint tells him that he'll have another heat, but Phil doesn't have the same unshakeable faith. He doesn't doubt Clint's commitment, and he knows they'll be happy whether they share another heat or not. But Phil wants another heat with Clint, and he wants the bond.

**

It's summer when Phil and Clint get orders for a very hush-hush op in Canada. SHIELD has been keeping eyes on a data center in Northern Quebec that seems to store more than data. Apparently, volatile chemicals like to be stored in cold climates as well. Especially those that are mixed with extraterrestrial substances. There have been rumors that a major purchase will go down, providing an opportunity to take out high-ranking members of the illegal lab consortium and their client. 

A normal SHIELD team would be far too conspicuous in an area that's barely inhabited, sees little traffic on the only major road that goes past the data center, and even less air traffic. So it's just the two of them, pretending to be outdoor enthusiasts exploring the Trans-Taiga Road.

When five days go by without so much as a peep from the data center, Phil suspects that this is some sort of enforced vacation. The cabin they're set up in is surprisingly comfortable, after all.

Naturally, a few hours after that thought crosses Phil's mind, they get an urgent update informing them that they have incoming, ETA two hours. Clint grabs supplies and heads off to his nest while Phil stays behind to monitor satellite surveillance and comms.

**

At first, Phil thinks the tension is due to the parameters of the op—after all, they have no immediate back-up, and their targets rolled in with what seems like a small army. But then he remembers when he felt this way before, so unsettled and ready to jump out of his skin.

Of course it would happen now, at the worst possible moment, when Clint isn't even with him and cannot know that Phil's on the brink of a heat.

There are three pills in Phil's bag that can stop the heat. It's early enough. But they've waited for so long, and what if the suppressants mess up his already precarious heat cycle? 

He sets himself an ultimatum: if Clint isn't back in twenty-four hours, he takes the pills.

**

Clint gets an opportunity to take out the targets ten hours later.

The relief that rolls over Phil is so strong that his hands shake for minutes.

**

“I swear to god, this fucking—” Clint stops, halfway across the threshold. He stares at Phil. “Now? Really?”

“Apparently.”

Clint sets down his bow and quiver. He steps close to Phil but doesn't touch him. “How long since you noticed?”

It's difficult not to reach for Clint. He looks and smells like safety. Comfort. “Twelve hours.”

Clint's eyes track over Phil's body. “Okay. We still got time?”

“Think so, yes.” Phil feels the pull of his instincts—to let go, to submit to Clint, and to let him be in charge of everything. It's still a strange thing to feel but not as terrifying as the first time. Remembering how amazing it was to surrender to Clint, Phil wants to give himself over again. He pushes the feeling aside. They still have things to do. “I already loaded up the car.”

Clint straightens. “Right. So, one last check to make sure the site is secure, wire in an initial report, then head out, try to put as much distance between here and us?”

“Yes.” Phil doesn't move.

Clint sways toward him.

Taking a step back is difficult when all Phil wants is step forward into Clint's arms. “Sorry, I—I want to, but it's hard enough being this close to you.”

There's a flicker of hurt in Clint's eyes before he pulls himself together and there's nothing but professional focus left. “I understand.” More softly, he adds, “It's hard for me, too. I'll do that site check.” He turns, grabs his bow and quiver, and is out the door without looking back.

Phil's stomach roils at the sight of his Alpha leaving him behind. It takes a good minute for the rational part of his brain to push back against the anxiety. Clint will come back. Of course he will. The unease doesn't entirely subside, but Phil manages to encode a message to HQ about the successful end to their mission. He packs up his laptop and takes one last sweep through the cabin, ensuring that they don't leave behind any traces. Satisfied, he walks over to the SUV and stows his bag.

“All clear,” Clint announces. He opens the trunk and carefully places his weapons inside.

The anxiety is still simmering. “Before we go, can you...” He holds a hand out to Clint.

Clint draws Phil close. “Everything okay?”

Phil sighs. “Yeah.” The low current of panic ebbs away. He breathes in Clint's scent, devoid of the fake Beta pheromones that Phil will always find unsettling. He's glad that Clint stopped taking his pills once they got to Canada; no point in doing that when it's just the two of them. 

“Think we'll make it all the way to Radisson before the heat really kicks in?”

“Maybe.” Phil is nearly certain that he won't make it that long. He can already feel the first shivers of want now that he's so close to Clint. The drive will take thirteen hours straight through and neither of them is in any shape to do that. But he doesn't want Clint to worry.

Clint pulls back. He keeps his hands on Phil's sides. “I'll drive.”

“You're exhausted,” Phil objects. Clint's been in his perch for twenty-four hours. He needs rest.

“I'm okay. I—” One of Clint's hands sweeps up to the center of Phil's chest. His eyes track the movement. “Let me take care of you?”

Oh. There's a hint of Clint's Alpha voice in the question. Not enough for Phil to be affected by it, but enough to let him know the request is instinct-born. 

“I'm not compromising the mission.” This statement is all Clint.

Phil needs more time to think. “Mission's over.”

Clint's thumb swipes across Phil's shirt. “Please. You're not the only one who's affected by what's happening.”

It's not an accusation; rather, it's a gentle reminder that Clint's instincts push at him with much greater urgency when Phil's heat so close. He explained this to Phil after the last time—how Alphas are drawn in by the Omega's heat, and how Clint's protective and possessive instincts flare up. They've both agreed to follow their instincts as much as they can in matters that concern only the two of them and as long as they're both comfortable with what's happening.

Phil trusts Clint to know whether he is capable of getting behind the wheel. “Okay.” He takes the keys out of his pocket and hands them over.

Clint kisses Phil's cheek. “Thank you. I promise I'll tell you the second I start feeling drowsy.” 

**

Clint manages to drive for two hours. Phil takes over for another hour, but his focus begins to drift and a bone-deep exhaustion sets in.

Phil darts a look at Clint. “Going to pull onto one of those smaller roads, okay?”

“Yeah. Just for a break, or...”

Phil turns onto an unpaved road. “Probably for longer.”

Clint's hand squeezes Phil's knee. “We'll be fine.”

It's not what Phil imagined for their next shared heat, but it could certainly be a lot worse. They're not in any danger, and they have enough supplies to get through a few days out here if they need to. “I know.”

**

The road leads to a small lake surrounded by tall pine trees. They park the car just off the side of the road, a hundred feet from the shore. It's late, after ten, but dusk has just fallen. They flip down the backseat, grateful to discover it turns into a flat surface that will be quite comfortable especially with their sleeping bags on top. Thank you, SHIELD R&D.

They share a few field rations and water before stripping out of their clothes and settling in for the night. Phil desperately wants sleep, but he can't unwind. Clint's still awake beside him, too.

“Can't sleep?” Clint asks softly, turning on his side to face Phil.

“No.”

“Too many thoughts?”

Phil rolls onto his stomach, curling toward Clint. “Not really. More...anticipation, maybe.”

“Yeah. I'm—I'm sort of looking forward to it.” Clint holds himself still, as if he isn't sure how Phil will take this revelation.

“Me, too,” Phil hastens to assure him. They've waited months for this, and Phil's missed that particular kind of closeness with Clint. “I'm glad you were right.”

“Told ya.” The smirk is easy to hear.

Phil shuffles closer until his nose hits Clint's shoulder. He feels more at ease right away.

Clint's hand comes to rest on Phil's side. “I need to ask you something. About the heat.”

Phil glances up. Clint's smirk is gone and the uncertainty is back. “Yeah?”

“We've talked about bonding, and I want to make sure you still want that. Do you?”

Phil almost retorts with a quick _of course_ because they've discussed this and agreed that they would bond during the next heat. But he senses that Clint needs a more definitive affirmation. “I do.” He takes a moment to let Clint see how much he wants this. It's not always easy for Phil to show everything he feels, but he tries with Clint. “I very much want to bond with you.”

Clint ducks his head and smiles. “Okay. I want to as well.” He leans down to press a quick kiss against Phil's lips. 

It should be easy to fall asleep. They're safe, and Clint's presence is comforting, as it always is. But it's not enough. Just when sleep seems to become entirely elusive, Phil recalls something from the first heat that might help. “Remember last time, when you'd touch me, it was—it helped me get settled?”

“Yeah. You want me to do that?”

“Please.”

Clint's fingers trail down Phil's back. “Like this?”

The mere contact is enough to allow some tension to flow out of Phil's muscles. “Can you use your entire hand?”

Clint's palm settles on Phil's skin. The next arc of his hand is firmer and the effect is instantaneous. It's as if Clint is brushing away all thoughts from Phil's brain. “Perfect.” 

Clint moves closer until his body is a line of warmth against Phil's side. “Good. Go to sleep.”

It takes three more sweeps of Clint's hand until Phil drifts off.

**

The ache is so strong that it pushes Phil out of sleep. He blinks open his eyes. It's still dark out; there are stars in the sky. Clint is already awake. His hand rests low on Phil's back, a spot of concentrated heat.

Phil's core thrums. He turns toward Clint, reaching for him before he's aware of what he's doing. “Been awake long?” 

“A little while.” Want flares in Clint's eyes.

Clint lets himself be drawn closer, and Phil turns them until he's on his back. His entire body is open to Clint. Ready to be claimed. Phil remembers how unsettling this felt last time, but he revels in it now. He wants Clint, wants him inside, wants that feeling of Clint's growing knot pressing into him.

Phil's legs fall open. Clint slides between them, his hand grasping Phil's hip, squeezing, then sliding around and lower. His fingers slip between the cheeks of Phil's ass. Clint can't reach far enough, but it's enough for another wave of slick to pulse out of Phil's hole. 

“You'll feel so good,” Clint murmurs, nosing along Phil's neck.

Phil tugs at Clint's hair, seeks his mouth. “Want you.” 

They kiss, messy and too eager, their noses bumping. It doesn't matter. The ache burns through Phil, and he wants Clint in any way he can have him. The drag of Clint's cock against his stomach is tantalizing.

Phil pushes at Clint, who makes protesting noises. He keeps a hand against Clint's chest. “Let's do this right.” Clint frowns. Understandably so, considering that Phil prefers to get fucked in this position. The heat makes him want other things, though.

Clint moves off him, waiting. His hands never leave as Phil turns onto his knees. “You don't have to,” Clint whispers.

Phil leans down onto his elbows. This feels right. It's not nearly as terrifying as during their first heat. “Want to.”

Clint's hand rubs over the small of his back and down his spine. There's force behind it, but he's gentle. His fingers wind into Phil's hair for a moment, thumb tracing over the skin behind his ear. A shiver rushes through Phil. It's exactly what he needs: for Clint to take charge, to hint at the coiled strength he possesses, but also to reassure Phil that he'll always be cherished. 

Clint presses a kiss to Phil's shoulder. “You're amazing.” His lips brush against skin as he speaks. 

Phil arches his back. “Knot me.”

Clint lets out a strangled noise. He straightens. The head of his cock teases against Phil's hole, then Clint's inside him, one long slide. Phil needs to remind himself to breathe as his insides threaten to turn into liquid. Sex with Clint is always good, but it isn't like this. Phil squeezes his eyes shut as the ache flares. Clint's all the way inside of him, but he still wants more. Phil presses back.

Clint leans over him, the heat and weight against Phil's back comforting. “Shh, I've got you.” His fingers fumble for Phil's. Phil grasps for them and holds on tightly.

“Please.” It's all Phil can get out.

Clint draws back and thrusts in deep. It's good, promises that relief is tangible. “Like that,” Phil whispers. Clint's next thrust is harder, the perfect angle, and Phil can finally let himself go.

**

“Already?” Clint asks in disbelief, pushing himself up to look over Phil's shoulder.

Phil tried to keep himself still for as long as he could, but that last shiver swept over him without any warning. “Yeah. Sorry.” He tries to pull away from Clint, but a hand to his hip stops him.

“Not your fault. I don't think I can yet, though.” 

Phil's well aware of that. His entire back is pressed to Clint's front; he can feel Clint's cock, soft and still slick from Phil's body, against his ass. The knot had only gone down a little while ago. It's too soon for Phil to want Clint again, but the ache to be fucked and knotted has been relentless. Unlike last time, when they had more and more time between each wave, the want only increases. Phil wonders if it's because they have decided to bond. Or maybe his body's too fucked up to do this right. 

Phil groans when the itch curls tighter inside of him.

“D'you want my fingers?” Clint strokes over his side, a clear attempt at comfort. It doesn't help much.

Phil thinks of turning Clint down. It won't ease the burn; only the knot takes that away. But it can be a distraction. Phil loves Clint's fingers, the way they tease and press and push. “Yeah.”

“Turn toward me.”

Phil moves to face Clint. Strong fingers grasp his thigh and hook it over Clint's hip. Phil's pulled flush against Clint, and he wraps an arm around Clint's side. 

Clint wastes no time. Three fingers enter Phil, pressing deep. “Tell me if this is good.” He draws them out a little and pushes back in hard until Phil can feel his knuckles press against the rim of his hole. 

“'s good, yeah.” It's better than Phil expected. The rhythm Clint falls into is fast, stroke after stroke, the way Phil has asked to be fucked during this heat. The strain in Clint's muscles is obvious where they're pressed against Phil's side and back, but Clint doesn't complain. Who would have thought that all the time spent on the range would pay off in this way? It almost draws a laugh out of Phil.

“What?” Clint asks, a little out of breath.

“Was thinking of the diverse applications of your training. Probably not what SHIELD has in mind.”

Clint's oddly quiet. “Just wanna take care of you.”

Phil noses along Clint's neck. “You are.”

That draws a shudder out of Clint, who's finally pressing back against Phil. Clint's cock twitches and starts to fill. Phil bites his lip to hold back the sob of relief. He rolls his hips, making sure that Clint can feel the drag of his already-hard cock. Clint curses and draws his fingers out. They're wet with Phil's slick; he brings them between their bodies to stroke himself. Phil watches as Clint's cock thickens with the sure twists of his hand.

“How do you want me?” Clint asks.

Phil settles on his back and pulls his knees toward his chest. “Just like you did with your fingers. Hard and fast.”

“Jesus, Phil. Alright.” 

Clint settles on his knees, spread wide so that his thighs push against Phil's. He keeps a hand on Phil's hip as he pushes inside. He goes slow, making Phil squirm. “Patience,” Clint murmurs. “We'll get there.”

Phil squirms again. He can't help it. The slow drag of Clint's cock inside of him feels good but doesn't help satiate the ache that's thrumming through him. “C'mon,” Phil urges when Clint's hipbones press against him.

Clint's hands settle over Phil's in the crooks of his knees. “Let go. I got it.”

There's a twinge as Clint presses his legs further toward his chest. It feels good, though, and he can feel Clint slide a fraction deeper.

Phil sighs. “Little more.”

Clint presses forward again, his grip firm but gentle. There's another push inside of Phil, and it finally feels as if Clint is settled as deeply in him as he can be. It's perfect.

Phil stretches his hands above his head. They hit the side of the SUV. Out the window, he can see bright stars. He almost wishes that they had something to tie his wrists; it's doesn't usually do a lot for Phil, but giving over full control to Clint—to his Alpha—very much appeals to him now. Perhaps next time.

Clint makes up for the slow start. He uses his strength to fuck Phil with precision and force. It's exactly what Phil needs to finally push back against the clawing inside of him. He moves with Clint as best he can, but he doesn't have a lot of mobility. It doesn't matter, though. Clint's strokes go deep every time.

“Good?” Clint asks. His chest is rising and falling fast. Concern and adoration are plain to see in his eyes.

Phil nods. His coherent thoughts are already slipping away, so he brings a hand up to Clint's face, palm against his cheek. He needs Clint to know that Phil feels everything he's seen in Clint's gaze. Sometimes he feels helpless with the love he has for Clint.

Clint's breath puffs against Phil's skin as he seeks out Phil's touch. He opens his mouth to press a sloppy kiss to Phil's wrist. His eyes are half-closed, and there's a flush spreading across his cheeks and down his throat.

“Tell me you're close.” Clint huffs out a laugh. “I'm pretty much there.”

Phil isn't quite, but release is within reach. The first few times Clint knotted him during this heat Phil came as soon as he could feel the knot build. But if he can hold on, if he can wait until Clint's knot is complete, then the ache will start to fade and leave him on the tipping point where the desire is still there but not white-hot anymore. Phil remembers it from the last heat—how amazing it had felt to come then. 

“Do it,” Phil encourages. “Knot me.”

Clint whines. He lets go of one of Phil's knees and bends down to kiss him. His hand cradles Phil's head, thumb stroking behind his ear. The twists of Clint's hips become more desperate until they twitch against Phil's ass. Clint comes with a groan, cheek pressed against Phil's. His knot starts filling immediately.

Phil kneads a hand against the small of Clint's back. “Keep going. Please.”

Clint manages a few more strokes. The growing knot catches on Phil's hole, the perfect kind of stretch.

Phil arches his back. “Oh, fuck.” He nearly comes, that's how good it feels. But he manages to hold on until his body has closed around Clint's knot. “Can you, Clint, please...” He grasps Clint's hand and pushes it toward his cock.

Clint's movements are slow, almost clumsy in his post-orgasm haze. There isn't a lot of room between their bodies, but Clint manages to close his fingers around Phil in an easy stroke.

“That's good. Don't go fast.”

“No?”

Phil can understand Clint's confusion—after all, outside of the heat, Phil is often desperate to come at this point—but there's no way he can explain this. “No.”

Clint doesn't ask any more questions. His touch stays light. It's just enough to buoy Phil on that point of almost-there. Clint kisses his jaw, his neck, and then halts when he comes to the juncture of Phil's shoulder. Phil bares his neck to him. Clint lets out a grateful noise and tongues the bonding gland. 

A syrupy warmth spreads through Phil, slick and slow, pushing outward from where Clint laves over his skin. When Clint's thumb presses against the underside of his cock, Phil comes. He trembles through the slow pulses, needy noises slipping past his lips. Clint's hand soothes over his side, and he keeps mouthing over the bonding gland.

When everything quiets in Phil, he draws Clint close, pressing his face against his neck.

“You're amazing,” Clint whispers, repeating what he'd said earlier.

Phil can't speak. He clings to Clint and hopes that's enough.

**

The car is filled with early morning light when Phil wakes up. He's surprised that he's slept a few hours; it's the longest period of rest his body has granted him in the last day.

Clint is stretched out against Phil's side, his head leaning against his hip. With an arm slung across Phil's thigh, Clint's hand is warm weight low on Phil's stomach. Clint's gaze is fixed on where his thumb is sweeping back and forth across Phil's skin.

He must have noticed the change in Phil's breathing because he glances up at him. There's an attempt at a smile, but sadness renders it a failure.

Phil knows what Clint is doing, and he wonders if that's the reason why Clint's so somber. It's instinct, of course. A lot of what drives Clint during the heat is oriented towards getting Phil to conceive. But that's not possible for them, at least not right now. Clint still doesn't know about that latter part—that they could try. 

Phil strokes over Clint's hair and down to his shoulders. He isn't tense, but he exudes melancholy. It's not right. The heat should be a joyful time for them, a time to celebrate that they belong together. Especially now that they've decided to bond.

“Come up here?”

Clint's movements are languid. He resettles himself next to Phil, his head propped up in one hand. The fingers of his other hand trail over Phil's chest.

“Did you sleep okay?” Clint asks.

Clint's concern for him is so touching, but Phil worries it might make Clint forget that he has needs during the heat, too. That only makes it more important for Phil to share what he should have told Clint a long time ago. “Fine. You?”

“Okay. Not long enough, but...” Clint shrugs.

Phil places his hand over Clint's, holding their clasped hands against his chest. “Remember during my first heat, when we talked about how all of this is about making babies?”

That draws a real smile out of Clint. “Yeah.”

Phil wonders if Clint can feel the increase in his heart rate. “What if that were possible?” 

Clint sobers. “It's not, though. There's the contraceptive implant, and beyond that...” He shakes his head.

Phil isn't one to beat around the bush, but he finds it difficult to be forthright with Clint about this. It has the potential to change their entire relationship, nevermind the fact that he has withheld this information for months. “You know that Medical took a rather thorough look at me after my first heat.”

Clint nods.

“Well, they found that—that it would be possible—that I could. Conceive. Potentially. If I went off the contraception.”

Clint stares at him. Phil's heart slams against his ribs. He wouldn't blame Clint if he needed some time to himself, heat or not. It's a lot to take in, which is why it's taken Phil so long to tell him. 

“Phil...” Clint whispers his name, not in anger, but what sounds like awe. “Really?”

“Yeah. It's not a hundred percent, of course, but there's a good chance.” If he has another heat, of course, and soon.

Clint leans in to kiss Phil, soft and reverent. He barely pulls away. “Do you know—do you even know how often I've thought about this?”

“You have?” Clint has never brought this up with Phil. And besides, this isn't the reaction Phil was bracing himself for. They don't keep secrets from one another outside of work, and this trust is something they both hold dear because neither of them gives it easily.

“Yes.” Clint's eyes are lit up, all traces of sadness gone. He untangles his hand and draws it down Phil's front, rubbing the stretch of skin he had gazed at earlier. “Would you want to? I shouldn't ask you now because of all the crazy hormones, but—have you thought about it at all?”

Of course Phil has thought about it. How could he not, once he knew it was possible? But so many of those thoughts run up against the instability in their lives and the danger of their jobs. In the end, Phil always has to concede that even if it were physically possible, it isn't feasible within the framework of their lives.

“I have. I've wondered what it might be like.”

Clint looks at Phil as if he's the most precious thing in the world. It almost hurts. Deep down, Clint's adoration pushes Phil's Omega senses into overdrive. It's what the heat is for, after all. It's why his body is clamoring for Clint's knot. Phil feels the pull again, only a twinge now, but it won't be long until Phil's begging Clint.

Clint brushes another kiss over Phil's lips. “D'you think we could...” A shift of his hips reveals that he's half-hard.

Phil could hold out longer, but it doesn't matter. Once Clint is inside him, the heat will flare. At least this way, he might actually get to enjoy Clint fucking him instead of only chasing after the need to get off.

“Can you turn over?”

Phil rolls onto his stomach. “Like this?”

“Yeah.” Clint climbs between his legs and uses one of his knees to nudge them farther apart. 

Phil draws up his knee as Clint settles on top of him. He's careful not to let Phil take his entire weight, but his hips press down firmly. Clint's almost fully hard, his cock sliding between the cheeks of Phil's ass.

Phil can feel himself getting slicker, and Clint groans. “Love you like this. So good, so good.”

The words get lost against Phil's skin when Clint mouths his nape. His tongue swipes over the bonding gland, sending sparks through Phil, who presses back against Clint. He doesn't get much friction from Clint's cock, but the weight and the heat of it is tantalizing. “Now, Clint.”

He can feel Clint's fingers tease around his hole, quickly followed by the press of his cock. Phil looks back over his shoulder and sees Clint looking down, watching as he disappears into Phil's body. It sends another shiver through Phil, and Clint catches his eye as he presses in that last inch. Clint anchors himself with his knees, pressing against the back of Phil's thighs. 

“Come closer,” Phil encourages. Clint lets him take more of his weight, holding himself up on one elbow. The other arm slides around and under Phil, Clint's palm open against his chest. Clint envelops him, and Phil sinks into the feeling. The need is simmering under his skin, a pleasant hum for now.

“Tell me when you want more.” Clint barely moves. His hips twist, but he stays inside Phil as much as he can.

Phil places a hand on Clint's thigh, squeezing in encouragement. Clint often fucks him like this when they've been apart. It surprised him at first because he was expecting something more frantic—and sure, that has happened between them as well, most memorably on a Quinjet—but more often than not, it's like this, almost excruciatingly slow.

The ache inside Phil returns, as it always does. It's sudden this time, and ferocious. Phil gasps with the force of it. “I need—need you, please, Clint, god.”

Clint nuzzles him. “Anything.” His hand pushes further up Phil's chest until it curls around his shoulder. It gives him additional leverage, and Phil can feel it in the increased force behind his thrusts.

Phil closes his eyes. He still has his hand on Clint's thigh, muscles rippling under his touch. It gives him something to hold onto as the heat tears through him. He feels hot all over, bordering on shaky. The tension in his neck becomes more pronounced, coalescing into a pulse where his bonding gland presses against his skin. 

“'s time,” he rasps out and bares his neck. 

Clint's next stroke falters. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Yes. Please.” Phil is shaking now, waiting.

Clint's mouth closes over the gland. He picks up his rhythm again, driving into Phil hard and fast. His teeth graze the swollen skin, worrying it. Phil keens. On the next thrust, Clint bites down. A sharp pain lances through Phil as Clint breaks the skin, but it lasts only a moment, followed by a rush of pleasure that reverberates everywhere. It forces his orgasm, bordering on painful in its intensity. 

Clint's bite loosens. He lets out a sob before licking across the tender skin again and again, each swipe sending a new wave of tingles through Phil. Clint's still pushing into him, haphazard, until he goes rigid. He trembles as he spills into Phil, and he doesn't move as his knot builds, keeping himself still aside from mouthing over the broken gland again.

A few minutes pass when breathing is all they do. Clint eventually shifts them onto their sides, holding Phil tight against himself. He occasionally licks over Phil's neck again; it soothes the slight sting.

“Does it hurt?” Clint asks.

“A little. What does it look like?”

Clint pulls back. “Um, like I bit you? Skin's a little red, but it's closing up already. There's supposed to be a scar, right?”

Phil lays his arm over Clint's. “Yeah, I think so.”

Clint settles back against Phil, face tucked against his nape. 

Phil waits for an earth-shattering new insight into life or his relationship with Clint, but it won't come. Worry bubbles up. What if the bond didn't take? He's had spectacular orgasms with Clint before, especially during a heat. 

“What's wrong?” Clint asks.

Phil wonders how Clint knew to ask that. “I don't feel any different. I was expecting...” This will sound stupid. “Some obvious sign that we're bonded now.”

“The proverbial fireworks?”

“Yeah.” 

Clint smiles against his neck. “You came pretty hard.”

Phil is tempted to roll his eyes. “Not the first time that's happened.” Maybe he's too impatient. He's read that the bonding manifests differently for each couple. And yet. “What if—what if it didn't work?”

“Hey, no, don't do that. It worked. It went exactly like it should have, okay?” Clint curls himself tighter around Phil.

Of course Clint heard the unspoken _because there's something wrong with me_ that Phil had tacked onto that question. “Okay.” 

“I did some research, and there are all kinds of ways for us to react to the bond. It's not always this big showy, um, climax, like in the movies.”

Phil smiles both at the bad pun and at the idea of Clint reading up on bonds. 

“Give it some time. Even if nothing really changes for us, it—well, it means a lot to me. That you did this with me.” Clint mumbles that last sentence into Phil's skin.

Clint's right. They did this to demonstrate their commitment to one another, not for some palpable evidence of said commitment. “Me, too.”

**

Phil wakes to late afternoon light streaming through tinted windows. Clint isn't next to him, but Phil knows that he's close by. The certainty of that knowledge is surprising. It doesn't stem from him knowing that Clint wouldn't leave him alone because that's not the kind of person Clint is; it's a deeper type of knowing.

When Phil turns his head, there's a note taped to the back of the front seat. It says, _By the lake. Needed to stretch my legs._

Being outside sounds heavenly. Neither of them has left the car in a day and a half, quick bathroom breaks aside. Perhaps the heat is leveling off now that they've bonded; at the very least, Phil doesn't feel the immediate need for Clint.

Out of habit, he reaches for his bag to find some clothes to wear, but then realizes that it doesn't matter. The chances of anyone coming to this lake are close to zero. 

In the end, the only thing he wears is a pair of sandals. It's pleasantly warm outside. He sees Clint as soon as he steps out of the SUV. He's standing on a bolder at the shore of the lake, quiver slung over his back and bow drawn. The arrow flies straight across the water, embedding itself into a tree trunk that already sports three other arrows. 

Clint didn't bother with clothes either. He looks breathtaking in the sunshine. Phil always admires the strength and precision Clint exerts with his bow—and yes, he also admires Clint's arms—but there are muscles working under Clint's skin that Phil didn't even realize were important to a perfect shot.

Clint surely is aware of Phil's presence, but he just nocks another arrow and lets it fly. As with all the previous ones, it hits its target.

It fills Phil with pride. There's something else, too, that Phil can't name at first. A sense of belonging, perhaps, of him belonging with Clint—his mate. There's an odd flip in Phil's chest when the word flickers across his mind, followed by a fierce sense of love and protectiveness. 

Clint glances over his shoulder as he shoots his last arrow. There's wonder in his eyes, and as he lowers his bow, he smiles. “Come up here?” He sets bow and quiver down and holds a hand out to Phil.

Phil gladly accepts it and is drawn right into Clint's arms. Clint's wide smile is infectious, and Phil smiles against Clint's lips as he's being kissed. Clint kisses his lips twice, then his cheek, before folding Phil into an embrace. It's all rather sweet, and a sign that Clint is happy. Clint is always generous with his affection, but even moreso when he's content.

“Hi,” Clint says. “You saw my note.”

Phil leans into him. Clint's skin is wonderfully warm from the sun. “I did. Knew you hadn't gone far.”

Clint's hand sweeps down his back. “I—I knew that you wouldn't mind. If I went to shoot, I mean. It was a little strange, actually.”

“Maybe that's the bond's doing?”

Clint pulls away to look at him. “Maybe. That could be useful, you know. During missions and so on. Would have been useful last month.”

Phil thumbs over Clint's newest scar, high up on his left shoulder. Clint's comm had malfunctioned, and he'd been out of touch for five hours. Logically, Phil knew that Clint would be fine, but he had still worried, and perhaps worse, Clint had immediately picked up on Phil's worries upon his return. It led to Clint apologizing even though he'd been the one to come back with a wounded shoulder.

Phil pushes the memory away. He looks out over the lake. “You think it's too cold to swim?”

“I stuck my toes in earlier. Wasn't too cold.” Clint grins. “Wanna go skinny-dipping?”

Phil draws his fingers down Clint's side, pleased to see him shiver. “I'd love to.”

**

The water is cold when it laps against Phil's feet. There's only one solution to that: face it head-on. “Race you!” he calls out to Clint, and starts running.

He hears the splashes Clint makes behind him most of the way, but when the water is up to their thighs, Clint leaps and dives. Phil follows suit. The water burns against his skin, and he pushes upward fast, gulping for air when he breaks the surface. He hops in place to warm himself up; he's far enough into the lake that the water comes up to his chest. 

Clint surfaces behind him, gasping. “Fuck, come, c'mere.”

Icy hands grab Phil and he's pulled back against Clint's chest. Heat blooms where their bodies touch, but goosebumps spread over Clint's arms nevertheless. Phil rubs his hand over them. “Pretty chilly, isn't?”

Clint burrows closer. “But so good.”

It does feel good to wash off all the stickiness. “Didn't you say something about soap?”

“Hmm, yeah. It's over there with our towels.” Clint nods toward the boulder.

Phil doesn't feel like going back to the edge yet, but they also can't stand still. The water's too cold for that. He wriggles out of Clint's hold. “Catch me?” He dives back into the water without waiting for Clint's reaction. 

Phil's good at evading Clint, finding ways to slip out of his hold, to knock his legs out from under him, and to use his defensive knowledge in other playful ways. Clint almost catches him half a dozen times. They both know that if Clint really wanted to keep hold of Phil, he would manage, but they're enjoying this game far too much.

Only when Phil begins to feel tired does he let himself get caught. Clint once again comes out of a dive behind him, immediately wrapping his arms around Phil's waist and chest. This time, Phil doesn't pull away.

Maybe it's the tight grasp that makes Phil tilt his head and bare his neck. Clint reacts just as fast, his teeth sinking into Phil's skin. It's more a nip than a real bite, but it strikes through Phil with the same sharpness as earlier, followed by that syrupy warmth. 

“Shit, sorry, I—I didn't mean to—I—” Clint turns Phil toward him. “Did I hurt you?”

Phil slumps against Clint. “No.” His legs are like jelly.

Clint's fingertips feel across the tender skin at the juncture of Phil's neck and shoulder. Each point of contact sets off sparks. “Looks okay. God, I'm sorry. I didn't even realize what was happening until I was already biting you.”

Phil brings a hand up to Clint's cheek. It's a shaky, uncoordinated movement. “'s okay.”

“Are you sure? You sound out of it.”

Phil straightens with some effort. “Think it's some residual—from the bonding. Makes me feel...fuzzy. Fuzzy 'round the edges.” 

Clint regards him fondly. “I'll say.” He rubs a hand up and down Phil's arms and chest. “Guess chasing you brought out some sort of possessive instinct, and then you went all pliant when I caught you...”

Clint's touch is grounding. Phil's thoughts steadily regain their clarity. “I asked you to chase me, remember? And then I submitted to you because I trust you. You knew to hold back and bite just enough to—to reaffirm the bond is my guess.”

Clint's eyes track over his face. “Okay.”

It's a very hesitant okay, so Phil slides his fingers over Clint's nape to tug him closer. Actions and gestures often work better with Clint, especially when he feels uncertain about their relationship. Phil kisses Clint with purpose and care, but also opens his mouth to Clint's tongue, inviting him in.

“Okay?” he asks softly.

Clint nods, mouth curving into a smile. “Yeah.”

“Then let's get that soap. There are things sticking to me that water alone won't get off.”

Clint snorts. “I'm not apologizing for that.”

“Didn't ask you to. In fact, I might ask you to get me dirty all over again.”

Clint pulls their bodies flush. “If my balls weren't trying to crawl up into my body, you'd probably get a reaction out of that.”

Phil feels much the same way, but he rolls his hips into Clint nevertheless. “Raincheck, then.”

**

Feeling more than a little chilled, they quickly trade the soap back and forth between them as they scrub down. Stepping out of the water, Phil stops to feel the heat of the sun against his skin.

When he bends to pick up his towel, Clint beats him to it. “Can I?”

Phil nods. He usually doesn't appreciate when people do things for him that he can do perfectly well himself, but seeing Clint act on his Alpha instincts is different. He knows Clint still isn't always comfortable with those instincts—they're both still figuring this out—and especially after the incident in the lake, it seems important to let Clint do this for him.

Clint takes the towel and carefully dries Phil off. He takes his time, rubbing warmth into each limb. It's soothing and invigorating at the same time. When he's done, Clint's own skin is almost dry from the sun.

They settle on the clean sleeping bag that Clint got from the SUV. Phil leans into Clint's side and closes his eyes. Clint's arm comes around him, tucking Phil securely against him. A light breeze sweeps over Phil's skin and up into the trees above them, brushing leaves together. There are birds calling out to each other, their song unfamiliar to Phil. 

Above all, he's aware of Clint beside him. There's the same sense of belonging he always feels when Clint's with him. But there's something else to it, a deeper layer of connection. 

Phil enjoys the quiet togetherness until his stomach begins to rumble. Clint stands with a mumbled “I'll get some food” and sets off toward the SUV. He comes back with MREs, bread, peanut butter, two apples, and half a bag of M&Ms.

“Slim pickings,” he says as he sits down.

“We've had worse.” Phil picks up one of the MREs. They're disgusting, but they'll do the best job of replenishing the energy he's lost during the heat. He sees Clint do the same.

“You'd think that with all the resources at R&D, they'd manage to make this taste less like cardboard.”

“Not high on their list of priorities.” Phil takes another bite. It really is like eating paper.

“Should be. They probably never had to make it through a week on nothing but this crap.” Clint crumples the wrapper into a ball and moves on to an apple.

Phil alternates between M&Ms and the rest of the MRE. The peanut butter is the best, though. It's just a cheap store brand, but it's perfectly sweet and salty and everything Phil wants.

Clint finishes his meal with the M&Ms Phil left for him. “It's kind of funny when you think about it. That people pay for this kind of thing for their bonding and we stumbled into it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You've never seen the ads for bonding trips? People pay a shit-ton of money for them.” Clint shakes his head.

Phil vaguely recalls posters of happy couples in idyllic settings. “Guess it wasn't really on my radar.” 

Clint's gaze softens. “Yeah, wasn't so much on mine, either. Always thought it was ridiculous that people would pay to be dumped in the wilderness somewhere just so they could rediscover some primal instincts when they bond.”

Phil spreads more peanut butter on his slice of bread. “Did you have anything in particular in mind for our bonding?”

“Not really. Thought we'd be home if we were lucky.”

Phil studies Clint, trying to discern any unhappiness with their current situation.

Clint's fingers trail across Phil's thigh. “Doesn't matter, though. That it happened here. It's kinda fitting, actually, that it happened on a mission. It's what our lives are most of the time, right?”

“Yeah.” Phil isn't entirely sure if that's a good thing, no matter how much he believes in the difference they make with their actions. Clint's right, however, in his assessment that bonding on a mission very much encapsulates who they are. 

They remain out by the lake after they finish eating. When the breeze picks up, they wrap the sleeping bag around themselves, forcing them to huddle close together. Not that Phil minds.

Phil's thoughts are drifting when Clint nudges his ankle. “Can I ask you something?” 

Phil doesn't point out that that's technically a question. “Sure.”

“Why didn't you tell me earlier that you can get pregnant?”

There's no accusation in Clint's voice, just curiosity. Phil feels guilty nevertheless. “It freaked me out at first. I never—I didn't even think I could go into heat. That alone was a lot to take in. Then to hear that I could—” The words get stuck in his throat.

“Have a baby?” Clint fills in softly.

Phil has to fight against the wave of anxiety that threatens to sweep over him. “Yeah. I didn't know how to tell you. I'm sorry. I should have.”

Clint brings both arms around Phil, who resists the temptation to lean into him fully. He wants to see Clint's face while they're having this conversation.

Clint regards him earnestly. “I wish you had, but I get it. Sometimes things are too big to put into words.”

The fragmented conversations they've had about Clint's childhood come to mind. Maybe Phil underestimated Clint's ability to understand holding things back. Even things that have profound implications for their relationship. “To be honest, I was expecting you to be upset that I hadn't told you.”

Clint nuzzles him. “You did tell me, though. Just took you some time.”

“I—” Phil stops himself from uttering another apology. If Clint was upset with him, he'd say so, influence of heat hormones or not. “You seem excited by the prospect.”

“What, by a bunch of mini-Coulsons running around? You bet.” 

“They'd be at least half yours.”

Clint smiles. “Yeah.” 

Phil tries to reciprocate the smile, but he can't.

Clint's smile wanes. “You don't seem as excited.”

The anxiety bubbles up again. Phil tucks his head under Clint's chin, seeking his Alpha's comfort. “I'm terrified,” he whispers.

“Tell me?”

“I could probably get used to the idea of being pregnant—” It's the first time Phil's said that out loud. It sounds bizarre to his ears. “Okay, perhaps that would take some time to get used to. But. I like the idea. Especially right now. I like all the little things you do, and they feel right. When you pet my stomach—”

Clint groans.

“It makes me think that this is what we're supposed to be doing. But when I think beyond the heat, then...how could it ever work? Unless one of us gives up his job. Even then, it would still be hard because you or I would be away all the time.”

Clint remains quiet, his hand moving back and forth across Phil's shoulder. “So you don't want to consider it at all?”

There's that sadness again. It's painful to hear. Phil wonders if Clint's lack of a stable family while growing up makes him long for one now. “I've considered it. I've thought about it a lot. Part of not telling you was—I didn't want to open up this possibility without having a plan. Or options. Ways in which we could make it happen, and I never came up with something that could work.”

Clint takes him by his shoulders and makes sure Phil is looking at him. “There isn't always a plan. Even if there is a plan, it goes to shit more often than not, as you know. And you don't have to figure this out by yourself.”

Phil looks away. “Planning is what I do.”

“I know, babe.” Clint pulls him close again. “We can try to figure this out together. If you want to. I only want to know that much right now. If you'd consider it. Everything else can come later.”

Phil draws in a shaky breath. “I do. I do want to consider it.”

Clint kisses the side of his neck. “Thank you.”

** 

They stay out by the lake until it starts to rain. It comes down in heavy drops, almost unannounced, and they scramble to scoop up the sleeping bag, towels, and food. Phil forgoes the sandals, running after Clint on bare feet. 

“Front door passenger side!” he yells.

Clint doesn't question the instruction, just keeps running. He yanks the door open and climbs in, Phil immediately behind him.

It's pouring now, and it takes Clint impossibly long to settle in. “C'mon!” Phil urges.

“Just gotta—” Clint throws the towels and sleeping bag into the other seat, then drags Phil inside.

“Wait, let me—” Phil's half in Clint's lap when he stretches to grab the handle and slams the door shut. “There. Jesus.”

They both struggle to catch their breath, Phil leaning over Clint, who smiles, which turns into irresistible laughter. Phil tries to rein in his giggles, but that only leads to hiccups that make Clint laugh harder. 

“Unfair,” Phil squeezes in between two yips.

“So-sorry.” Clint snorts and doesn't sound sorry at all.

The hiccups die down and Clint's laughs turn back into a wide smile. He looks happy and relaxed, and Phil can't resist tracing the corner of his mouth with his fingers. “Wish you smiled like that more often,” he says, thinking out loud.

“I do when there's a reason.”

“Do you?”

“Hmm.”

Clint tugs Phil closer to kiss him, unhurried and soft. Phil's hands wander over rain-slick skin, tracing Clint's shoulder and arms. “So what's the reason?”

“You.”

Phil should feel compelled to roll his eyes at such a sappy statement, but the way Clint says it, so hushed and earnest, makes it impossible. Phil doesn't know what to say—if he needs to say anything back. Maybe he should be used to Clint's open adoration by now, but he isn't. It still bowls him over every single time, and without fail, he wonders how he got so lucky.

He kisses Clint's jaw and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

Clint's arms come around his back, holding on tight. “I love you so goddamn much.” His voice breaks in the middle of the sentence.

Phil's throat tightens and he squeezes his eyes shut. He's not going to cry all over Clint. He's not. When his eyes have finally stopped burning, he says, “Me too.” He probably shouldn't be hung up on crying in front of Clint, especially when it's out of joy. God knows Clint's done it, for both happy and sad reasons. He'll never forget Clint sobbing in pain when he broke his leg last year and it took an hour for evac to arrive.

Phil distracts himself from those thoughts by picking up a towel to dry himself off. Clint takes the other towel. They bump into each other trying to reach everywhere. Clint shimmies against Phil in ways that seem rather deliberate.

“Tease.” Phil tries to sound stern, hiding his grin behind the towel as he scrubs it over his hair.

“Says he who directed us into the front seat. For reasons that I assume are far from innocent.”

Phil lobs the towel toward the backseat. “Well, there's that raincheck.”

“There is that.” Clint drags the edge of the towel down his front and wraps it around his cock in a definite stroke. “Should we see how far back this seat goes?”

Phil reaches for the lever. “That's an excellent idea.”

The seat drops back and Clint slides down with it. He grasps Phil's hips and pulls until their bodies fit snugly together. “That what you had in mind?”

“To start.”

Phil's about to kiss Clint when Clint turns his head away. “Sorry, I—not to break the mood, but you're not sore, are you? Because last time—”

“I'm good.” More than good, really.

“Just making sure,” Clint mumbles against Phil's lips.

Phil uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into Clint's mouth. Want curls through him and he doesn't hesitate to use everything he knows about Clint to get him to the same point. 

It doesn't take long.

Phil lifts up to guide Clint's cock inside. The sensations that come with that are familiar—the way he opens around Clint, the promise of release it brings, the anticipation of Clint's knot—but the feelings that wash over Phil are different than before. There's a deep certainty of their connection, but more than that, a sense of being safe and protected. It's not anything that Phil sought out in the past; in fact, he's always felt safest when he was in charge of his own protection. Handing that responsibility over to another person seemed like a liability.

But trusting Clint with his safety doesn't feel anything like that. It's liberating. Perhaps it's the bond. Phil knows that Clint will do anything to make sure he's cared for, and that he expects the same from Phil. They've had each other's backs for a long time, but this is different. There's a permanence to it that Phil would not let himself count on before.

It's easy to see the surprise and wonder in Clint's eyes. It's a radical reorientation for both of them, and it'll take time to adjust, but for now, Phil wants Clint to know that he feels incredibly fortunate to share this with him. With his mate. Phil noses along Clint's jaw until he tilts his head enough to let their mouths meet. 

It's messy and imperfect, especially once Phil grasps the back of the seat to give himself more leverage, but neither of them minds. Clint breaks away a few times, but Phil coaxes him back into the kiss with a swipe of his tongue or a nip to his lips.

Phil's a little lightheaded himself when Clint finally pulls back with a huffed “Gotta breathe.”

But something drives Phil to keep his mouth on Clint, so he ducks his head to the soft skin low on Clint's neck, licking until he can almost taste Clint's scent. Clint lets out helpless noises, and his hands skitter along Phil's sides.

Satisfied, Phil straightens and puts more effort into the rise and fall of his hips. He knows he's found what works for both of them when Clint's fingers dig into his skin.

Clint's hands don't remain idle for long. They roam over Phil's chest before turning lower again, thumbs pressing into the groove of Phil's hips. It's just enough pressure to tease a shiver out of him. There's a calculating look on Clint's face as his thumbs press lower, further down until they brush the base of Phil's cock.

Phil's carefully maintained rhythm falters. “Fuck.”

“That's the idea.” Clint sounds far too smug. One of his hands remains still, but the other pushes onward, thumbing against Phil's balls, then pushing under them. 

Clint's thumb is barely moving, the lightest of touches, but it sucks the air out of the room. Phil can't breathe, can't do anything except dig his fingers into the seat to prevent himself from crumpling into an undignified heap. He knows he's sensitive there—of course he is—and it's not as if Clint hasn't put his hands there before, but it's never been like this. 

“How's that? Good?” Clint's voice is low and rough.

Phil glares at him. As if Clint even needs to ask. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he's enjoying it. His thumb keeps moving, a firmer touch now, circling. Sparks rush through Phil, and his cock twitches against Clint's stomach, leaving a sticky trail behind. He's going to come from this; he can already feel it building. He wants to laugh at that—that it only takes these minute movements to render him apart.

The bubbling laughter turns into a choked sob when Clint's hips push up and Phil feels the same pressure from inside that Clint's thumb is putting on him from the outside. He can't stop the shudder that runs through him, can barely keep it from turning into a relentless shaking. But it's a close call because Clint doesn't stop, keeps pushing at him from seemingly everywhere until Phil's head drops forward and his eyes close. He can't deal with this anymore.

“Tell me if it's too much,” Clint whispers, sounding unsteady himself.

Phil can't decide if he should nod or shake his head, but Clint continues until outside and inside blur and everything in Phil seizes up for a long moment before he comes in long waves. He thinks Clint might be coming, too. Everything outside of him remains muffled.

He collapses against Clint, drawing air into his lungs with half-sobs that sound pitiful to his ears but that he can't contain.

Clint's hands sweep over his back. “Shh, I got you, it's okay.”

Phil curls against Clint, his cheek just over Clint's heart, which is beating wildly. It's reassuring to know that Clint must feel out of sorts as well. When Clint's fingers settle over Phil's nape, they tremble. 

Phil sighs when Clint's knot starts swelling. It anchors him and brings back that feeling of safety. For the first time during this heat, he feels sated, and he lets himself float on that feeling. Clint seems to settle back into himself as well; his touches become more purposeful.

It's still raining outside, no longer pouring, but steady. The rivulets running down the window obscure the world beyond, adding to the twilight settling around them.

After Clint's knot loosens, they clamber into the backseat and wrap themselves in the sleeping bag. The outside still feels moist, but the inside is dry. Phil appreciates the fleece lining; the rain has brought a chill with it that's spreading through the SUV. He turns to face Clint, tucking one leg between his, fitting himself close. 

“Warm enough?” Clint asks. His arm comes around Phil.

“Hmm.” Phil closes his eyes. He isn't tired; he's comfortable in a way he rarely is. 

“Seems like the heat is on its way out.”

“Done, I think.” There's no vague stirring inside of him, only contentment. “After-effects for a couple days, probably.” He'll be more tired than usual; Clint, too. They're still going to want to stick close together, but it won't be painful to be apart.

The calm that has been radiating from Clint is replaced by a purposeful looseness. Like he's snapping back into the alertness required for their jobs. “So, nap, then head out?”

It's what they should be doing. Get back on the road, get to Radisson, wait for SHIELD transport. But they so rarely have this—time to be together without the sense that either of them could be called away at any moment. “No.” Phil can sense Clint's surprise. “I was thinking we stay the night and take our time tomorrow. If you'd like.”

“Yeah, I'd—I'd like to, but...”

“It's another twelve hours, max. They probably don't expect my heat to be over already anyway.” 

“Alright, yeah.” Clint eases out of his alertness, one breath at a time, until he's projecting calm again.

Phil is glad that Clint agreed to stay. He usually follows Phil's lead in professional matters, although he probably knows that the reasons for wanting to linger are personal. He might even have sensed that Phil still needs the closeness to his Alpha. They made a complete hash of that last time, and there's no need to repeat that. Phil remembers how difficult it was to get off that couch, to walk even the short distance to the bathroom, to wash Clint's scent off his skin. He's not going through that again.

“I—” Clint begins, then halts. “There's something I want to say, but—never mind.”

Phil opens his eyes. “Is it about us staying longer?”

“No.”

“About the heat?”

“Kinda.”

Phil draws his hand over Clint's chest, down his side. “Tell me.”

Clint fidgets. There are tense lines around his eyes. “Okay. But. Don't—please don't think I have any expectations, or want to put pressure on you, or—I just want you to know this. Okay?”

Phil normally doesn't agree to anything that hasn't been precisely spelled out, but Clint clearly needs the reassurance, and if it's something so delicate, then Phil definitely wants to know what's on Clint's mind. “Sure. Yes.”

“I want you to know that I'd do it. If I could. Have the baby, I mean.” Clint tenses, clearly bracing himself.

It's sweet, and selfless in a way Clint can be without realizing, but also infuriating because the point is that Clint can't do it. He can't have the baby for them. That's entirely on Phil. He almost wishes he hadn't encouraged Clint to share this.

Phil knows he's doing a shit job at keeping those emotions off his face when Clint ducks his head and mumbles, “Sorry, that was such a dumb thing to say.”

“It was not dumb.” It's an immediate response. A reflex. Phil can't stand when Clint labels himself in that way, repeating an idea that too many people tried to beat—literally—into him when he was younger.

The corners of Clint's mouth quirk. “Unthinking, then.”

“Clint.” Phil sighs. Words usually don't fail him, but this is difficult. “You really want this?”

Clint looks at him, and there's so much honesty and hope in his eyes. “I guess so?”

Phil pushes away all the panic that once again threatens to rise and focuses instead on what it means that Clint wants this with him. It affirms the bond they chose, their partnership, the faith and trust and love they share. “Okay. Then let's take the time to seriously think about it. Think through all aspects of this. Come up with a few scenarios.”

“This isn't a mission, you know.” The teasing cannot entirely mask the joy in Clint's voice.

“If it was, it would be much easier. At least the parameters would be somewhat predictable. What do we even know about parenting?” In Phil's case, that would be nothing.

Clint's expression turns serious. He brings his hand around to Phil's front, knuckles brushing over his abdomen before settling his palm against Phil's chest. “I always figured that if you love your kid, and want to protect them, and teach them how to be a good person, that's the most important part. Isn't it?”

It is. It's also all the things that Clint had too little of during his own childhood. Whereas Phil's mind gets wrapped up in cribs without toxic paint made from sustainable wood and all the billion other things he'd gleaned from occasional late-night Googling, Clint zeroes in on more fundamental challenges. Which they both can live up to, Phil's sure of that. The rest, they could probably learn.

Phil draws Clint into a kiss, which he intends to keep light and reassuring, but then Clint lets out a relieved half-sob, and the kiss takes on a desperate edge, the way is often does when their carefully managed emotions spill over.

“Guess that means you agree with me?” Clint whispers.

“I do.” Phil presses another kiss against Clint's lips. “So, have you ever held a baby before?”

“Umm. Maybe once? Not much chance for that in our line of work.”

Phil smiles. It's the answer he expected. "Same here. Maybe we should start with that." 

Clint crowds against Phil, mumbling into his mouth. “Sounds like a good plan.”


End file.
